


Lost In Your Embrace

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Haunted [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you believe in dreams<br/>That's how I found you<br/>But I can't be with you<br/>Till you take a leap of faith</p><p> </p><p>For the inception_kink prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/11941.html?thread=25730725#t25730725">Ariadne and Arthur, established relationship or not doesn't matter, seduce and pull Eames into the triad.</a> There are no actual descriptions, but there <i>are</i> allusions to past abuse, so please be warned if you're easily triggered. Title and summary from Delerium's "Fallen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost In Your Embrace

"There's something wrong with Eames."

"That's a terrible pick up line," Arthur told Ariadne, rolling to his side to face her. She was lying on her back, facing the ceiling and frowning deeply. Arthur let his hand slide along her arm until he reached her nightgown strap. "You've brought him up before," Arthur began.

"This isn't about that," Ariadne disagreed, turning to face him. "Not entirely, anyway. I still think it would work between the three of us."

Arthur slid his hand to trace the side of her neck. "I've never disagreed on that point, Ariadne. But he's a runner. Frankly, I'm surprised he's worked with us this long. He's usually long gone by now, and I don't want to start something like that just to see you hurt in the end." He stroked her hair gently and took in her troubled expression. "I've worked with him off and on over the years. I could deal with it. You feel too much. It wouldn't be a one night stand with you."

"If he was with us like that, he wouldn't leave."

"You'd be asking him to be something he's not," Arthur said gently. "If it was just a one-time thing you wanted, that would be one thing. It could've been done a dozen times over by now, whenever he said something suggestive." Arthur traced the curve of her lips with his fingertips. "He flirts the way most people breathe. He wouldn't want more than that."

"You don't know that," Ariadne protested.

"He doesn't have friends," Arthur pointed out. "Just contacts."

"He has Yusuf. He has us."

"He has _you._ He just needles the hell out of me."

Ariadne grinned. "I think that's his way of flirting with you."

Arthur snorted. "I don't want to start something he couldn't finish," he said with a sigh. "You'd be hurt in the end."

"So would you."

Arthur didn't disagree, so his silence was answer enough.

Ariadne ran her hand along his bare torso until it rested on his slim hip. "But I didn't mean to start this conversation again. I really do think something's wrong. You saw him today when you were going over the information you got out of that military database."

"He'd said this would be difficult, if you remember..."

"It's more than that. The look on his face when you were talking about the subject's father..."

Arthur sighed. "I've given up trying to figure him out, to be honest. It just gives me a headache. Too many contradictions."

"You know something about him, don't you?"

"I have basic dossiers on everyone I've worked with," Arthur admitted. "His is even sparser than usual."

Ariadne frowned. "Can I see it?"

"Now?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah."

She looked through it when Arthur got it for her. Eames had come from a posh family in the south of England, though his father died when he was five. His mother remarried when he was six, and he started having some behavioral problems at age seven. It got worse over time, and he was sent away to military school. He disappeared after graduation, and Arthur couldn't trace his movements until he appeared on the dream sharing scene. Eames already had contacts with unsavory characters on various sides of the law, and his talent as a forger got him noticed quickly.

"I know that look," Arthur said, leaning against her and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder. He looked at the various things he had been able to find and tried to see it through her eyes. He knew he was a little jaded by now; he usually found it difficult to be very sympathetic when Eames was making him the butt of all his jokes.

"Something happened when he was seven," Ariadne murmured. "I wonder if this kid reminds him of that." She turned to Arthur and frowned. "Maybe we should back out of this."

"He's a grown man," Arthur protested, closing the folder. "And he was the one that accepted the job, if you recall. He brought _us_ in, not the other way around. If he was truly bothered by this, he wouldn't have accepted the job." He put the folder on his bedside table and wrapped his arms around her. "There might not be anything for you to protect, you know. You can't save everyone."

She half turned in his arms with a sardonic smile. "I saved Cobb from himself. And I'm saving you from being lonely right now."

Arthur laughed and grasped her head in his hands, bringing her closer for a kiss. "I'm thankful for that every day," he murmured against her mouth.

"Good answer," Ariadne replied with a smile, winding her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him with reckless abandon, making him lose his balance and fall backward on the bed. Ariadne hiked up the skirt of the nightgown to straddle his waist as she kissed him. Arthur was growing half hard beneath her, which made her smile against his mouth. "Someone's happy at the moment."

"He's always happy when you're around," Arthur teased, letting his fingers run down the length of her spine. "Did you plan to do anything about it?"

"Oh, I can think of a thing or two I'd like to do," Ariadne purred.

"You do get creative," Arthur said with a smile, drawing the nightgown up. She pulled it up and off, exposing herself to him. Arthur ran his hands along her stomach before cupping her breasts in his hands. "I'm meeting with a few people tomorrow, if you wanted to talk to Eames about whatever you're concerned about."

"Coward," Ariadne teased as she raked her nails gently down his chest.

"Pragmatist. He won't take a swing at you if you're wrong."

Ariadne laughed and ran her fingers along Arthur's chin. "Can't mess up this beautiful face of yours."

"Of course not," he agreed with a smile.

There wasn't any further discussion that evening.

***

Arthur had several contacts to meet to try to figure out the best time to get at their subject, the adult son of a military general. He was a businessman that handled weapons contracts with the military but had no history of service himself. It was going to be tricky getting to him and then getting into his head, so Arthur needed to get his background research handled well. Ariadne didn't have a lot to do until they determined where they would have the actual dream take place, so she and Eames were more or less wasting time in the warehouse, waiting for Arthur to return.

Ariadne settled in next to Eames, looking over his shoulder at what he was writing. It was a list of all the people their subject would know, as well as various attributes that would be important to nail down once they figured out the angle they would do the job with. "This is pretty detailed. I didn't know forging was this intense."

"It could be," Eames replied, not really paying attention to what she was looking at. "Normally I just faff about and pick them up as I observe, but we have too much downtime. I thought I'd make a list of what I already know about the man's social circle."

"You didn't put anything down about his father," Ariadne observed.

Eames put the pen down. "I don't think that would be helpful. He won't want to talk to his father. Trust me on that one."

Ariadne frowned. "Why not? His father's the general, after all."

He shook his head. "My job is to know people, remember? I know this type. He tried his best to get away from his father, to become everything the man wasn't. Becoming his father won't do me any favors on this job. It's more likely I'll have to shadow his confidantes or coworkers."

"Any girlfriend or boyfriend, then?" Ariadne asked, peeking at his list again.

"None he's public about. But perhaps Arthur can dig one up with his research." He turned his head slightly and observed Ariadne for a beat. She was leaning against his arm, reading through his messy scrawl with her tongue caught between her teeth almost invitingly. Her breasts were pressed against the back of his arm, and he could feel the heat of her through the thin layers separating them. "Ariadne, what are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Trying to help," she said, looking up with wide eyes. "I can't build anything yet."

"I meant, pressing up against me like this. Does Arthur know?"

"Of course he does," Ariadne replied with a puzzled look. "We talk about you all the time."

"I mean, my obtuse architect," he began slowly, "does he know you're practically daring me to touch you like this?"

"Oh. Yes. We talk about sleeping with you all the time, too," she answered honestly. She smiled at Eames' incredulous look. "No, seriously, we do."

"You do?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, slightly away from her. He couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "And why is that?"

There was a delighted curl in her lip, the same kind of smile she gave Arthur. "You _have_ looked in the mirror, right? And we _like_ you." She reached out and touched the back of his hand gently. "Look, if this bothers you..."

Eames snorted. "The two of you have something good going, Ariadne. No need to start mucking it up by adding someone to keep the two of you together."

Ariadne frowned at him and curled her hand tight around his. "If anything happened, it would be because we all want to. Because we'd love to, and not for any other reason."

"Things like that don't end well," Eames said in a quiet tone of voice. "Now, I'd better get back to work."

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Ariadne let go of Eames' hand and silently left the room.

***

"Why did you say anything?" Arthur asked with a groan, flopping face down on their bed. "No wonder the fucker was staring at me like that."

"I was just trying to help, and then he was asking if you knew I was talking to him like that, and it just kind of slipped out."

"Like what?" Arthur asked, rising to a sitting position.

"Kind of leaning over him. Like how you do with me when I'm sketching." She winced at Arthur's glower. "I didn't mean to!"

"So now he knows," Arthur said with a sigh. He couldn't stay annoyed with Ariadne for long, and it wasn't as if this was a really difficult situation to work around. No worse than walking in on Cobb and Mal having sex in their workspace had been once upon a time. "Hopefully it doesn't get awkward. He already throws too many comments in my direction."

Ariadne knelt behind him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. "Well, apparently he was in a bad threesome before. He said things like that don't end well."

"I certainly don't go looking into my coworkers' sex lives on purpose," Arthur said, turning around in her arms. He kissed her lightly. "And you shouldn't, either. Let's just do the job and leave it at that."

"He's miserable."

"It's not your job to fix everything. He's a grown man. He knows what he's doing."

Ariadne sighed and touched her forehead to his. "I know, I know. But I can't help but hope. We got together, after all."

Arthur smiled and trailed his hands along her arms. "We balance each other, then. You hope for something that I think is impossible."

"Not impossible," Ariadne murmured, moving her head just enough to press her lips against his forehead. "Just difficult. Maybe the conversation today is more like planting the seed. He just needs time to think about it and see if it works."

"And if he doesn't?" Arthur asked, moving his hands down her back in a gentle rhythm.

"Well, it's a nice fantasy," Ariadne replied. She smiled at him playfully. "Maybe if we make a sex tape to show him?"

Arthur laughed out loud. "You are _dangerous,_ Ariadne. Knowing you, he doesn't stand a chance."

"That's the idea," she said smugly.

***

"Your girlfriend has a strange sense of humor," Eames commented as he went over Arthur's notes. The handwriting was crisp and precise; he had needled Arthur about it before, but apparently it was the physical act of writing that helped the point man keep his thoughts together coherently. Eames noted that Arthur didn't seem particularly surprised by his words.

"So which part of it annoyed you the most?" Arthur asked, reaching for a file folder containing more information regarding the subject's munitions company. He wasn't perturbed in the slightest, and Eames was tempted to tip him out of his chair just to get a reaction out of him.

Eames frowned. "You aren't serious."

Arthur looked up with a bland expression. "Can't take what you dish out, Eames? I am surprised," he remarked.

"Shut it, Arthur," Eames intoned, an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice. "It's one thing for her to joke around like that..."

"She wasn't joking, and you know it," Arthur said. He grasped another folder and handed it over. "Anyway, I'm thinking the best way around the subject is through his best friend. Their offices are right next to each other, they take lunch together every day..."

Eames slapped the folder down on the desk and glared at Arthur. "What kind of game are the two of you playing at?"

Arthur looked at him evenly, lips pressed together. "I told her not to say anything, because it wouldn't go anywhere. There's no use starting something that wouldn't continue, and I won't have her getting hurt because you're a runner. She said there's something off about this whole situation, but I think you're getting ready to run again." He saw Eames' blink of surprise. "Is that what it is?"

Disconcerted by Arthur's words, Eames grasped the folders he had discarded. "So you were serious?"

"About what? Ariadne not getting hurt in the process? Of course I am," Arthur said tightly, starting to get angry. "It wouldn't be a one time thing for us, asshole. It wouldn't be something where you throw us away before you let it work because you feel like moving on. I'm not letting that happen."

"You're bloody serious," Eames said, sitting there stunned in front of Arthur.

Arthur picked up the file folders and rearranged them, his motions jerky and tense. "You can hide behind humor all you like, Eames. You can ignore it if you want..."

"I'm not getting between the two of you," Eames snapped. "I'm not going to fuck up something that works."

Arthur snorted. "You should know us well enough by now to know that isn't a valid concern." He looked over at Eames and saw the honest expression there. His own softened a fraction. "If we did this, it wouldn't be because there's something wrong in the relationship between me and Ariadne. It would be because we love you too, Eames."

Eames watched Arthur leave the workspace, brows furrowed in thought. After a moment, he followed the point man out into the main area. Ariadne was out getting lunch, and Arthur was booting up his laptop to start doing whatever online searches he deemed necessary. Arthur could ignore people as diligently as he could suss out information about them, so he simply went through his work routine as Eames stood there behind him. Eames could walk away if he wanted to, or open his mouth and say something.

"You can't love someone you don't know," Eames said abruptly, before he lost his nerve.

Arthur's eyes flicked up. His expression was bland but his eyes were troubled. "How can we, if you don't let us know who you are?"

"Darling, what you see is what you get," Eames replied easily, a half smile stretched across his lips. "You already know everything you need to know."

"Like how you'd rather lie than deal with us?" Arthur shook his head. "You contradict yourself in the space of a breath, Eames. You're _fishing_ for reasons to say no. I'm just glad Ariadne's not here to listen to this. She thinks better of you than that."

There was a flicker of panic on Eames' face, but it smoothed over into his usual unperturbed look. "Just as well. She deserves you, Arthur. You do well together. You don't need a third."

Arthur spun around in his chair and watched Eames as he turned to retreat. "I didn't think you were a coward," he called out, which made Eames freeze. "I thought you were always willing to use your imagination to make something work."

Eames turned around and there was something almost like desperation or panic in his expression. "I won't see the two of you fall apart because I joined you."

"Usually I'm the one that thinks everything is going to fail." Arthur got up and crossed the room quickly, grasping Eames' arm tightly. "You're the one that is certain things can be worked out."

Eames pulled his arm away, reacting as if singed. "Arthur, it's not worth the risk."

They heard Ariadne at the front door to their work area, juggling bags and the key to the front door. "Help her get lunch, will you?" Arthur asked. His eyes searched Eames' face, his lips tight with concern. His hand brushed against Eames' for a fraction of a second, making him jump. "It'll be fine. We're all professionals here."

Eames couldn't meet Arthur's eyes for the rest of the afternoon.

***

Ariadne sat down next to Eames heavily, sighing. He looked over at her out of the corner of his eyes, nominally paying attention to Arthur charting everything out on the whiteboard. "You look tired. Not sleeping well?" he asked.

She shrugged, then turned to look at him. "I worry about you."

"No need to do that," he murmured, eyes fixed on the whiteboard. Arthur had fallen silent with a sigh. "Listen, we need to plan this out so you can get to building."

"I have ideas on this already," Ariadne began. She got up and started describing what she had in mind, which dovetailed nicely with what Arthur had been talking about. Eames watched her talk with her hands, large effusive swoops of emphasis in her descriptions of the second layer. She and Arthur talked it out back and forth, and Eames had very little to offer for this part of the planning.

Really, this only confirmed his opinion that they were better off without him.

***

Getting to the subject was easy. He was already asleep at his desk, so there was no need to worry about him seeing their faces. They had hired on a lookout through one of Eames' contacts and the three went under together. Ariadne was the dreamer for the first layer, watching over the three bodies as Arthur and Eames went to work in the second layer. She was about to put the music on when Arthur's eyes snapped open. "We have to go. _Now."_

"Eames is still under..."

"The dream is collapsing. He'll be out soon. Add more sedative so the subject stays under," Arthur ordered, pulling out his own line. In another moment, Eames gasped awake.

The subject remained sedated, and Ariadne looked between the two of them. "Now what?"

There was shouting outside of the room they were in for the first layer. "Time to use that escape plan, Ariadne," Eames said, twitching the drapes away from the window. "The natives are getting restless."

"Those are _my_ projections," Ariadne reminded him. "You're making me nervous."

Eames looked back at her, eyes startlingly empty and pained. "Right. And you need to calm down so we can wait for the kick. It'll come soon."

"What happened?"

"He got wise too quick," Eames replied, looking back outside of the window. He knew that Ariadne was looking to Arthur for confirmation, knew that they would hold a conversation with just their eyes. He was superfluous here. Arthur was right; he was getting twitchy because it was time to move on. This job was difficult and it was pinging him the wrong way. He was usually more in control than this, his forges cleaner and more seamless. He knew people, knew what motivated them. He usually knew what made them tick.

He should have gone with the father and not the friend, but the relationship with the father was a mess and would have been too difficult to get right for a good forgery. He should have known to correct Arthur, to point the way in correctly. The subject was troubled in all sorts of ways that wouldn't show up on paper trails. Arthur wouldn't have known what to look for, but it was Eames' job to know that.

He looked at his watch when the music began. "It's early."

"Fuck. Something went wrong up there, too." Arthur looked at Ariadne, then Eames. Somehow, it was calming, even if he wasn't as in control as he looked. "Get ready to move," he told Ariadne. "Just yank the lines and run with Pietro. We'll meet up afterward."

They gasped awake in the midst of chaos.

Pietro was shooting out of the window, and there were bullets flying into the room. "Fucker's got enemies we didn't know about," he hissed. "Who saw us? We should've been good!"

Ariadne pulled the lines and packed the PASIV faster than she had ever done during practice. She yanked the subject down and away from the window; Pietro had been too busy trying to keep the dreamers alive to worry about the subject. "Security was down. We were _fine."_

"Then someone really wants the fucker dead, not just the info in his head," Pietro snapped angrily. "I got one cartridge left. This ain't gonna be pretty."

"Our employers won't blame it on us," Ariadne said in clipped tones, yanking at Pietro. "We have to go, _now."_

Arthur and Eames both had guns, and they took up positions on either side of the window to allow Ariadne and Pietro time to escape. They managed to kill two of the five shooters, but that still left three too many. "You should head out first," Eames said between shots. "You can take some out on the way."

"Eames..."

"Don't fucking argue with me, Arthur. Just get the hell out and get to Ariadne."

Arthur nodded briskly and headed out of the office building. He palmed his die as he moved through the hallways, just to be sure this was real. He shot and killed two of the remaining shooters, but couldn't find the fifth one. He could only hope that the shooter didn't head inside the building to look for the subject. He was still under heavy sedation, and Eames would have trouble getting out.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur headed to the prearranged rendezvous point, ready to call their employer. They hadn't exactly completed the mission, but it wasn't a complete failure, either. He could only hope that it would suffice.

***

Arthur started calling Eames' phone when he didn't show up at the designated meeting point at the prearranged time. Pietro was there with Ariadne, their heads bent over a map of the area as if they were merely tourists. They hadn't seen Eames, but would wait for another hour to be sure. Arthur headed to the hotel room he was sharing with Ariadne, intending to start calling some of his extended network of contacts looking for word regarding the attempted murder of the subject.

Eames was sprawled next to a dumpster in an alleyway not far from the rendezvous point. He had a bullet in his leg and one in his arm. His gun was still in its holster beneath his jacket and his phone was broken in his pocket. Arthur texted Ariadne to let her know Eames was still alive and they could leave. "Someday, you'll realize you don't have to do all this alone," Arthur sighed, hunkering down beside Eames. He shook his head, grasping at the other man's arms. It startled him, and for a moment his eyes were wide with panic. "It's just me," Arthur said in a calm tone of voice. "No one's around, I checked. Come on, we need to get you cleaned up."

"Can't," Eames started to say. His voice fractured in pain as Arthur hauled him to his feet. They were close to the same height, and Arthur's wiry build disguised his actual strength. "Don't do this. I'll make my way back eventually."

"Shut up and act drunk," Arthur replied in clipped tones. "That shouldn't be too hard for you."

Eames pressed his lips together unhappily as Arthur slung Eames' arm around his shoulders. "You can't disguise my leg."

"The fabric's dark and if you're really as good as you say, no one will bother to look at the hole in the pants," Arthur replied. It was just challenge enough to make Eames glare at him and snap to attention. They hobbled toward the hotel, Eames singing off key. Just to needle Arthur, he regaled everyone in earshot with an awful rendition of Lady GaGa's "Poker Face" and "Paparazzi." Arthur periodically sighed like a long suffering friend taking his buddy home after one too many at the bar. "Don't even think about throwing up on me," he said as they got into the hotel lobby. "Alcohol smells worse coming back up."

The hotel staff was only too quick about helping Eames and Arthur to the room. Arthur tipped Eames into the bed unceremoniously and went to his overnight case. He had a small med kit in it for times just like this. It wasn't as if they could go to an emergency room and generate a paper trail. Gunshot wounds always involved police interviews, and they had to maintain a low profile. Arthur was digging out the bullet when Ariadne returned to the hotel room. Eames had swallowed two bottles of alcohol from the minibar and had the wooden part of a clothes hanger between his teeth to keep from biting through his tongue in pain.

Concerned, Ariadne approached slowly. "Is it bad?" she asked quietly.

"The leg is worse, but he'll be all right," Arthur said, looking up. "The arm wound is just a graze." He looked back down and gave a final pull. "I got it."

Sweat had broken out along Eames' skin, and Ariadne moistened a washcloth to clean off his face and neck. He was startled at the touch, not having noticed her enter the room. "Sh. It's all right, Eames," she murmured softly. "Let us take care of you."

Eyes glazed with pain and alcohol, Eames merely nodded and fell asleep. He barely felt her press her lips to his forehead.

***

Eames snapped awake, pain in his leg and arm. For an agonizing moment, he thought they were broken and casted again, that it was his old childhood bedroom, and the steady breathing in the half dark beside him was someone else he _never_ wanted to contemplate. He was hyperventilating before reality crashed down on him, the ghost of a memory all he could feel.

Ariadne turned toward him, brows furrowed in concern. She stuck a bookmark in the book she was reading, a treatise on environmental architecture, and moved to sit beside him on the bed. "Hey. Whatever nightmare it was, it's over." Her hands were light and gentle against his chest, making soothing motions that helped to calm him down. "It's okay, Eames. We're safe, and no one knows where we are. It's okay."

"Arthur..." he rasped, eyes searching around the room wildly. He could still feel the press of a hand against the back of his head, pushing him where he didn't want to go. Eames blinked rapidly, trying to clear the old memory away. "Where is he?"

"He went out to meet with Pietro and our employer. He's going to turn in whatever we could get."

"I should be there," Eames began, struggling into a sitting position. Pain flared in his arm, ugly and sharp, bringing him solidly back to the present. The last of the fog in his brain cleared, and he took in everything around him in an instant. He was hyperaware of how little Ariadne was wearing, sprawled across the bed she shared with Arthur in their hotel room. He was clad in only his boxers above the coverlet, and the scent of Ariadne was intoxicating. "I shouldn't be here."

Ariadne easily pushed Eames back down, her hands flat on his chest. "You've been shot," she said firmly. "Arthur will take care of it. He'll get the payout for us."

"It's not that," he protested, catching hold of her hands. "You shouldn't be alone with me, Ariadne. It isn't proper."

She smiled at him fondly, which made his heart trip inside his chest a little. "Eames, I know you'd never do anything to hurt me. You'd never hurt Arthur. We know that." She brought his hands up to her lips and pressed them against his bruised knuckles. "We trust you."

"You don't know me," he said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't trust me."

Ariadne leaned in close, their hands clasped and pressed between their chests. "We both do, silly." Her smile was soft and delicate. "No matter how far you run, we'd still trust you. You're good at what you do, and you can't stay in one place all the time. I get that, I really do." The quiet acceptance in her tone made Eames want to hold her and tell her she got it wrong, he didn't _want_ to keep moving. But it wasn't safe to stay in one place for long, it wasn't safe to put down roots. Roots only bound someone to a place and become something he would be strangled with.

"Ariadne," Eames began, not sure what he was going to say. "You deserve somebody better. Somebody like Arthur. That shouldn't be damaged."

Her lips were soft over his, a tentative kiss to see what his reaction would be. She retreated after a moment, eyes searching for a response. When none seemed to be coming, she ducked her head and had a shy and hesitant smile on her face. "Nothing changes how we feel about each other or about you," she said softly. "If you don't want it, that's a different story."

He wanted to seize her by the back of her neck and kiss her breathless, then rip the thin layers off of her. He wanted to pin her down and fuck her hard, maybe have Arthur help. He was even willing to let Arthur touch him, memories be damned, and was terrified of that. This whole thing was terrifying. It would fall apart, their lives would be ruined, and it would be all his fault. It's all he ever did, if he stayed in one place for too long. People got hurt and lives fell apart. It was one of the few things he did well.

"I think you do," Ariadne whispered, taking in the way he had turned from her gaze to stare at the wall. "Are you afraid of what might happen?"

"Aren't you?" Eames snapped, turning to stare at her again. "It'll all get fucked up and the two of you don't need me to do that to you."

She carefully stretched out on the bed beside him, trying not to jostle his leg. Her touch was light on his chest, sending tremors through him. "I'm not afraid of this. I know what I'm doing. Arthur knows what he's doing. We want this, Eames. We want you with us, to stay for good." Ariadne's breath caught when Eames shifted on the bed to grasp her shoulder. Her hand flew to cover his, and she leaned in next to him. "I don't want you to go. I won't talk about it if it makes you nervous or if you really don't want to be with us. But that's not it, is it?"

"Ariadne, stop," Eames said, nearly begging. "You don't know what will happen."

"We love you, Eames," she murmured, voice breaking. "Why don't you believe me?"

His hand tightened on her shoulder almost painfully. "Nothing good will come from that."

"No, I don't believe that," Ariadne insisted. "I'm not ready to give up on you like that."

Eames thought of the way she always seemed to push limits while on jobs. Even at the very beginning when he had met her, she took things so seriously and kept pushing herself hard to get things done. Going into limbo to get Fischer to complete the job was above and beyond the call of duty, yet she did it without batting an eyelash. He really shouldn't have been surprised that she would push for him now.

But he was surprised. He wasn't used to someone fighting to keep _him._ He was used to others wanting him around for his various skill sets, but wanting him around on a personal level was new.

"You might have to, sweetheart," Eames said, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Arthur and I aren't quite bosom buddies, you know."

"Because you're both stubborn as hell," Ariadne said wryly. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

Eames couldn't help but laugh. Ariadne leaned in a little further, and Eames' smile slipped. "Ariadne, don't," he murmured, bringing his hand up to his face. "I'm bad news. Don't do this to yourself. Don't ruin a perfectly good relationship for me."

Ariadne slid her hand across his chest. "You wouldn't ruin things," she said in a quiet tone of voice. "We love you. It's different from what we have for each other, but that doesn't mean it won't work out. I know it can." She kissed his mouth tenderly, her hand sliding to his shoulder for balance. "I love you, Eames. I always will, even if you decide to leave us."

It wasn't a conscious decision to kiss her back. It wasn't anything he intended to do, but he returned her kiss with all the frustrated desire that he had for her. She made a soft contented noise in the back of her throat which only served to egg him on further. Eames grasped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He deepened the kiss, and Ariadne responded enthusiastically above him. She was more mindful of his wounds than he was, and it was only when he tried to pull her down to the bed that he felt the graze wound on his arm and bullet wound on his leg. He let out a groan and broke the kiss, panting. His arousal was only too obvious, and Ariadne palmed him through his boxers.

 _This is a bad idea,_ he wanted to say. _I'll ruin you. I destroy everything I touch, and no one is safe with me._ The words refused to leave his lips; on some level, he knew it was a lie. It was just a way to keep everyone out, to force distance between him and the rest of the world.

"I'll take care of you," Ariadne promised, stroking him gently through his boxers. She moved to kiss his jaw and neck, her touch gentle and featherlight. Eames let his eyes fall shut as she kissed and licked his skin. It was too easy to let his arms fall open and let her kiss and touch him. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if afraid he would be skittish and tell her to stop.

He didn't want to. That was the problem. He still believed it would be a mistake, that he would ruin their relationship as well as the friendship and working relationship the three of them had, but at the same time wanted it so badly. He wanted what they had, wanted to be part of something real for a change.

Ariadne layered kisses over his skin and chest, then rolled her tongue along his flat nipple. Eames sucked in a breath as her hand slipped into the opening in the front of his boxers to grasp him, the tips of her fingers stroking the curve of his balls. Ariadne smiled against his torso, then looked up through her eyelashes at him. "Is that a good spot?" Eames could only nod as she continued to stroke him, her mouth and breath fluttering across his stomach.

It felt like forever, and Arthur returned to the hotel room while Ariadne was sprawled across Eames, taunting him with light touches and kisses. Arthur paused as he took off his leather jacket. "Did I miss something?" he asked finally, coming closer to the bed. "I thought this wasn't happening."

"Help me?" Ariadne asked, pulling her mouth away from Eames' stomach to sit on her haunches. Her hand was still moving rhythmically inside Eames' boxers. "He really shouldn't move his leg, after all."

Eames watched Arthur's slow smile in wonder. "That is true," Arthur said, drawing out the syllables. He took off his shirt and pants before sitting down on the bed. It was a little crowded, and Eames couldn't help but jump slightly when Arthur gently brushed his fingertips across Eames' shoulder. "I know you joke about it all the time, Eames," he began softly, "but have you ever been with a man before?"

Not always willingly, Eames nearly answered. "A few times," Eames finally said. It was a safe, neutral answer.

Arthur nodded, continuing to trace the muscles in his arm with a firm but light touch. "I'll be careful, but you stop me if it's too much, all right? I don't want this over before it begins."

Eames looked up at Arthur's open expression in wonder. It was more consideration than he thought he'd get. "Are you sure?"

His smile was blinding. "If you are."

Ariadne made a happy little humming sound as she watched them kiss, Arthur's tongue sliding into Eames' mouth. Arthur cradled his jaw carefully in his hands, deepening the kiss further but not wanting to scare him off. Ariadne resumed kissing his stomach, then moved up to kiss and lick Eames' neck. She moved his uninjured arm around her, and his fingers dug deep into her hip, pulling her close. He kneaded her hip and backside, a restless motion that told her better than words about his hesitancy to screw this up. "I love you," she whispered in his ear as she took the earlobe between her lips. Eames gasped beneath Arthur's mouth, and Arthur moved to kiss Eames' chest.

Arthur slid his hands down Eames' belly as he layered tender kisses across Eames' chest. Ariadne took Arthur's place, kissing Eames with reckless abandon, her tongue in his mouth and her arms wrapped around him. He dug his fingers deeper into her, pulling her flush against him. She wasn't wearing a bra beneath her thin shirt, and he could feel her nipple pebble against his shoulder. He groaned softly into her mouth, and he could feel Arthur's hand slide beneath the waistband of his boxers to take his cock between slim fingers. Eames made a soft whimpering noise as Arthur kissed the wet cloth covering him, his hips tilting up almost without any conscious effort. His breath stopped when Arthur slid the boxers down from his hips, but his touch was gentle, as if this was sacred.

Maybe it was. Eames let out a moan when Arthur licked the length of him, cradling his balls in one hand as the fingers of his other hand trailed along the inside of his thigh. He ran his hand along the curve of Ariadne's back, his other hand catching hold of the sheets. He abruptly let go of them and ignored the pain in his arm to reach over to grasp Ariadne's breast, abrading the nipple through the thin cloth covering it. She made a helpless noise of pleasure, which made him smile against her mouth. He tugged at her shirt impatiently, and she backed away from him long enough to toss her clothes aside. She leaned against him to kiss him again, but Eames turned his head to catch Ariadne's breast in his mouth. She tucked her head down, her lips pressed against the crown of his head as she gasped in pleasure. Arthur took Eames into his mouth at that moment, making him suck harder on her breast in response, his fingers digging slightly into her back.

Eames adjusted his good arm so that his hand curled around her bare hip. "Eames," Ariadne whimpered, one hand tangled in his hair and tugging at it. He slid a finger into her, finding her slick and wet. Ariadne hissed and writhed as his thumb brushed across her clit. He had to turn his head to press his face into the valley between her breasts, gasping for breath. Arthur was working his tongue along the length of Eames' cock, and Eames shifted his hips to give Arthur better access. He started moving his fingers rhythmically, going by the sound of Ariadne's gasps. She was slippery against his fingers, and curling them in particular ways nearly had her screaming or pulling his hair out by the handful.

It was a surprise when he came in Arthur's mouth, not able to do much more than groan and shudder as a warning. Arthur merely swallowed him down and then sat back, his hands stroking Eames' legs gently. He watched Eames coax an orgasm out of Ariadne, then reached for her. She sprawled on the bed beside Eames, a wide and brilliant smile on her face as Arthur slid his erect cock between her thighs. She took Eames' hand in hers, their fingers entwined. She brought their tangled hands up to her mouth to cover her gasps and moans as Arthur began to slide in and out of her slick heat. Eames watched them, the way their eyes took in everything about each other, the way they were absorbed in every moment and contact. Eames felt the slide of her lips and teeth against his hand, felt the bed rock with the force of Arthur's thrusts into her. Ariadne accidentally bumped into his wounded leg as she writhed beneath Arthur. It jostled the wound, but Eames couldn't be angry. The pain made this real, reminding him that they had wanted him there with them, desired him and needed him to stay.

They looked at Eames at intervals, and he saw the way Arthur caught his lower lip between his teeth as he approached orgasm. "Not yet," Ariadne gasped, shaking her head frantically.

"Too much," Arthur groaned, eyes on Eames' startled expression as he came.

Ariadne was pouting at him, poking at his chest playfully. "I'm so _close,"_ she nearly wailed.

"Let me," Eames murmured, cutting off whatever Arthur was about to say.

Delighted, Ariadne followed Eames' directions to hover over his mouth, clutching hold of the headboard for balance. Inhaling the scent of her deeply, Eames brought his good arm up to grasp her hip as he brought his lips to her wet center. He worked her with his tongue, knowing Arthur was watching them. Ariadne's breath came in fractured gasps, and Eames could taste her musky flavor as well as Arthur's come. He closed his lips over her clit and tugged gently, hearing her mewling take on a frantic aspect. Her thighs trembled on either side of his face, and Eames had to tighten his grip on her to keep her steady. Arthur shifted his position on the bed, pressing his lips against Ariadne's side. He helped him balance her shaking body, one hand sliding along Eames' chest as he leaned into them. Eames pulled harder on Ariadne's clit, running his teeth against it. Ariadne jerked against his mouth, forcing his head back and into the pillow as she came.

Arthur pulled her down from her position, cradling her in his arms next to Eames. Eames watched them with hungry eyes, licking the taste of them from his lips. Tucked against Arthur's chest, Ariadne smiled at him and slid her hand along the sensitive skin of his arm. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his shoulder. "You'll stay with us, won't you?" she asked hopefully.

Eames took in the pleased expression on Ariadne's face and Arthur's quietly accepting one. It wasn't pity in their gaze at all, wasn't something dark or twisted. It was love, plain and simple and frightening in its intensity from both of them.

He slid his good arm over to grasp the back of Ariadne's head and pulled her closer to kiss her forehead. He looked up at Arthur as he nodded. "Yeah. I'll stay with both of you."

It was good to belong somewhere.

The End


End file.
